Still a Potter
by tactfully
Summary: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS. Oneshots based on the Potter kids. [Number 4: Sometimes Teddy thinks he doesn't belong.]
1. James

He twitches.

Across the table from him, Professor Longbottom stares. James knows he thinks it's funny - but it isn't.

Not really.

He'd be laughing insanely if Mum had told Al to give Professor Longbottom his love. He'd be cackling if she had told Rose, even, or Lily. Lily who isn't even at Hogwarts yet, and whose reputation wouldn't be ruined, and who showers everyone with love anyway.

He scowls.

Across the table from him, Professor Longbottom smiles.

"You're very good at Herbology, James," he says kindly. James doesn't smile back; he's too busy looking anywhere but his professor's face. "Maybe even top of the class."

James doesn't like that. He knows that he should probably take it as a compliment; after all, he was never top of the class last year. He was barely even above average - he was below average in Defense Against the Dark Arts, even. He doesn't want, nor does he need, to become top of the class for Herbology.

Neville looks at him. "Look," he says, placing his hands palm-down on the table between them. "Herbology is great. You want to go out and save the world, go do that. But you need to understand that you aren't your father, Mr Potter."

James cringes.

Across the table from him, Professor Longbottom waits.

James looks down at his hands. They're ink-stained; he last picked up a Quill yesterday, and when he was showering he didn't wash them off. He thinks the stains are pretty, almost, but not exactly. It's not quite the word. The ink stains stand out against his skin, covering the pale freckles on his hands.

Professor Longbottom watches.

"Yeah," he says. "Maybe."

Because like the ink stains, James knows that he belongs. The ink stains feel at home on his skin, like the dirt beneath his nails and the freckles on his nose. James loves his family, loves them to death, almost, but he can't be a war hero. He can tackle raging plants in place of Death Eaters, maybe, while Al and Lily go off to become Aurors.

But he'll like it, he decides, and like the ink stains, he won't try to wash his hands of them.

He's pretty sure they won't wash their hands of him, either.

Still. James looks up, and into Professor Longbottom's eyes.

"That's good," Neville smiles. He has a kind smile, reminiscent of the days when he was but a schoolboy with no direction in life. "I can help you, James. So can your mother and your father. You know that, right?"

James manages a nod.

He wonders where the decision came from. Maybe it's been lurking away at him all this time; maybe Professor Longbottom saw his potential. Maybe he idolises the older man too much for his own good, and maybe he'll regret it later, when his family are all Aurors and War Heroes and Saviours of the Wizarding World.

But he's content, he thinks, with his ink stains and his dirty fingernails. He's content with being different than his family; he's content with being Professor Longbottom and his grandfather and a Potter. Maybe he's content with his decision, too.

"Professor Longbottom?" he says.

Across the table from him, Professor Longbottom blinks.

"Mum told me to give you her love."

He's gone from the room with a hasty smile and a departing wave, off to wander the corridors and avoid his friends and family. Maybe he'll find a new tunnel, or discover a wonderful room, or stumble into a lurking, pale-haired boy. And maybe he'll start a friendship with that boy, and separate himself from his family even further.

More ink might stain him, and more memories that his siblings won't share, and more and more he'll wrestle in the dirt with a raging plant and wear earmuffs when dealing with Mandrakes. Maybe he'll adopt the earmuffs as his signature item, and maybe he'll discard them when Lily gets a pair for Christmas. Maybe he'll go home with the pale-haired boy for the holidays, and maybe he'll meet his too-polite father.

Maybe they'll chase peacocks and try to grow Devil's Snare and refuse to step into certain rooms. Maybe they'll write letters to James' family, charmingly polite and with only the occasional jab at his younger brother. Maybe he'll come back to Hogwarts to find Lily All Grown Up now, and Albus talking with the old headmasters' portraits.

And maybe they'll all grow apart. But sure as the ink stains on his hands, they'll never fully depart each other. Like the ink stains on his hands, maybe James will stand out more and more against his family. But Professor Longbottom's there, and James has his memories and his red-and-gold scarf and his pale-haired boy, and it doesn't really matter in the end, because he's still a Potter.

* * *

**Rushed? Yes, no doubt about it. But I love the potential for these new characters, even if I didn't particularly like the epilogue in general. So this series of one-shots, probably connected, will be to help me expand my "knowledge" of them before I start writing chaptered stories... if ever.**

**I think it goes without saying that I do not own Harry Potter. The only thing I can claim is my take on the kids' personalities, and even that opinion is bound to be shared by someone out there.**


	2. Lily

**When Lily Potter received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

Albus Severus, thirteen by then, had congratulated her with a grin and a hug. "You'll be in Slytherin," he said, and she didn't point out that maybe he had created a tradition, just then.

She had instead looked to James, who shrugged indifferently. "Doesn't matter," he said, and she half expected him to follow it up with, 'you're a _girl_.'

But instead he looked at her, and grinned as Al had, and started on the joke about the lion and the friendly snake; a favourite of his. She had pushed him from the room, and ran to owl her father.

* * *

**When Lily Potter was sorted into Hufflepuff, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

From the Slytherin table, Al had smiled at her. He mouthed something, but she couldn't read lips; instead, she waved back and watched a brown-haired boy swing his legs back and forth up on the three-legged stool. He sat next to her four minutes later, and she spent the evening pretending not to be bothered by his pointy elbows.

When James cornered her after the Feast, she'd thought she was done for.

"You didn't wave to me," he said, frowning. "I was waving and yelling and I think I hit Wood in the face, but you didn't notice." She had apologised, and James said he was proud of her, and he joined a familiar-looking Slytherin by the doors.

She'd wandered around the castle, lost, for an hour. Then the brown-haired boy had shown up, introduced himself as Smith, and led her to the Hufflepuff common room.

Lying under the covers that night, she'd smiled through her tears. She missed her parents, and Al, and James—but she reckoned she had made history, like Al before her.

A Potter in Hufflepuff. What a laugh.

* * *

**When Lily Potter kissed Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

Even if the kiss was a bit wet, and their teeth kept clashing. She rather liked the feeling of his lips, even if they _were_ chapped, and she didn't mind the lack of fireworks.

She was thirteen, and growing up, and it was all a little overwhelming. She found that she didn't care.

They huddled by the fire in the common room that night, delighting in stealing all the warmth. She was still reliving The Kiss, hours before, and Smith was still slightly pink.

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly. Smith looked at her for the first time since they had sat down.

"Thought you knew," he said, and he blinked.

"Nah," she blushed. "I was trying to talk to Al when you were called, and when I looked up you'd already sat."

Smith bit his lip. "Smithers," he said eventually. "My dad, he tried hard to make mum laugh. She thought he was being cruel an' divorced him."

"Smithers isn't that bad," she reassured him. "I'm a flower, and I grow in a pond, only I can't swim and everyone spells my name wrong."

Smith grinned at her, or maybe at himself. She couldn't quite tell.

"Smithers Smith," he clarified, and she fell silent.

* * *

**When Lily Potter went to Hogsmeade with Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

It was December, they were fifth years, and they were freezing.

They kept their hands in the pockets for fear of frost-bite. Smith was making awkward little remarks, his breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She saw his nose was pink, and tried to squash the butterflies in her stomach.

In the end, they crammed themselves into a corner booth at _the Three Broomsticks_ and sipped Butterbeer.

"Your hair looks nice today," Smith said.

They looked each other in the eyes, and left to start a snowball fight.

Maybe that's what made it perfect.

* * *

**When Lily Potter left Hogwarts, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

She sat with Smith on the train back to King's Cross and made small talk. Neither wanted to discuss what would happen after Hogwarts; it was too alien, too strange.

"Think I might be a Healer," Smith muttered, turning red.

"The robes wouldn't suit you," she said, and kissed him.

* * *

**When Lily Potter got engaged to Smithers Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.**

Maybe it had been she who had proposed to Smith, but she thinks she knew all along that it would be her job, anyway. Smith was certainly ecstatic enough, if not a bit embarrassed, and she was happy and glowing with excitement.

Her knee hurt from when she had kneeled on it, but subtle attempts at proposing over the past week hadn't worked. (Smith took such questions as 'Hey, d'you fancy being married?' as jokes.)

"Hey, Smith, d'you fancy being married?" she whispered to him later that night. Smith curved an arm around her waist, drew her in close, and laughed.

Within ten minutes Smith's soft snores filled the room, and she thought of Mum and Dad. She thought of Al, who was an Auror, and of James, who disappeared abroad two years ago.

She's lucky to have Smith, but as she fell asleep that night, she dreamt of Potters.

* * *

When Lily Potter became Lily Smith, she knew without a doubt that it was the best day of her life. 


	3. Albus

**Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed this story, added it to their favorites or story alert. There's one more chapter after this, and it should be up soon - as soon as I can type it up, which may be today or may be tomorrow. Until then, I hope you enjoy Albus Severus' letters - and draft letters - to home. (I don't care if Severus is a middle name, that's just awesome. But not as good as Scorpius.)**

* * *

Dad,

I know you said being in Slytherin would be OK, and I think I'm OK with it, but I

* * *

Dad, 

James sort of looked at me today, after the Sorting, and I think I really upset him because I got into

* * *

Dad,

James is a

* * *

Dad,

Miss you already. And Mum. How's Mum? I think I miss her, too. I do miss her, really I do, only it's that she's a bit over-protective and I think James will probly beat me into missing her in a few days time. Not that he'll hit me, only that he'll probly mention her really loudly in front of all my friends and wait around for me to start sobbing.

I'm still waiting for them to show themselves, Dad, it's not that I'm not looking for them. My friends, I mean. It's like with you and Aunt Hermione, I guess, only they probably won't come around with a troll and a lot of bogeys. There's that one kid, the kid you pointed out on the platform, or maybe it was Uncle Ron, I couldn't tell. So he's my friend, sort of, but not really because we never talk. I think he worries that he'll get one of those funny hairlines like his dad has, because he's constantly in front of the mirror and playing with his fringe. He told me he doesn't like it, but his mum insists, and his dad is too busy scowling over his own hair and being all dadish to really care about Scorpeos' hair.

And I know you'll probly ask me why I'm almost-friends with Scorpeos, and why I keep seeing him in front of the mirror, but it doesn't really matter and I'm stuck next to him in Charms and he's always fixing his hair up in the boys' loo, anyway. You walk in there and he's just standing there, staring at the mirror, and I think it really annoys the seventh years. Yesterday James was standing at the mirror next to Scorpeos, playing with _his_ fringe, but Scorpeos really didn't notice. And I think that upset James, because he scowled at me on his way out of the loo.

Sorry it took me so long to write. This week's been really great, but a bit lonely, and I think I'm really starting to like Defense Against the Dark Arts. Like you, right? You liked DADA, which is what everyone calls it according to Scorpeos. James told me that last summer, but I didn't really believe him. Say hi to Lil for me, OK? And Mum. Don't forget Mum, or she'll send me a Howler and James'll probly never let me live it down.

Albus

P.S: I'm in Slytherin.


	4. Teddy

He thinks maybe he doesn't belong.

Harry says of course he does, he's been an almost-Potter for nineteen years now, how could he not belong? But Harry is blinded by the ghosts of the Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, two people that Teddy has never met. Harry cannot look past his name - Ted Lupin - without seeing the muggleborn man who won the heart of a Black sister.

Harry is blinded by the ghosts of the past, and Teddy realises, with a sickening sense of indifference, that Harry always will be.

Once, when he was six and his grandmother was ill, he stayed over at Harry's place. Ginny was there, too, pregnant and grumpy. Teddy's hair was the black of night that week, and his eyes were emerald green.

When James was born, Teddy resented him more than anyone in the world. He resented James more than he resented his parents, who were never around, or Victoire, who always was.

And then he finally met James; a little toddler with unruly red hair and pale skin, and eyes that could only be described as brown. He smiled that day, and James smiled back as only a toddler could, all gummy and wide. He drooled on Grandma's favourite carpet, but she didn't mind and neither did Teddy, because he knew that James was no more a Potter than he was.

He started visiting Harry's again, this time with hair the colour of the sky at sunset or the colour of an ice-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean. James would smile and clap his hands and demand more, and Teddy would give it to him, right up until Albus Severus Potter was born.

James was two years old by then, and old enough to recognise that, suddenly, he wasn't getting as much attention. Teddy doesn't know what happened after that, but James stopped idolising him and turned instead to George Weasley.

He doesn't know why James left him. He doesn't know why he _let_ a two year old abandon him. But it happened, and they went their separate ways, and Teddy saw Albus Severus Potter six months later.

For a child less than one year old, he had a considerable amount of hair. It was black, Teddy noticed with an awfully familiar pang of jealousy. Albus Severus had a mop of messy black hair and the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

"Teddy," Harry had said to him, "this is Albus Severus Potter."

Sometimes, Teddy likes to morph into a nineteen year old version of Albus. Victoire doesn't mind, Albus doesn't know, and James finds it barmy but amusing. But Teddy does it anyway, and he spends his day in front of a floor-length mirror in his apartment.

"My name is Ted Potter," he says to himself.

But then Victoire Floos in, and he changes back to Teddy Lupin, and he is feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

James says that he's the closest thing to an older brother he's ever had. He says of course he's family, he's been an almost-Potter for nineteen years now, why wouldn't he be family?

Harry says he's loved, of course he's loved, he's been an almost-Potter for nineteen years now, why wouldn't he be loved?

Grandma smiles in her sickbed and pats his hand.

He thinks maybe he doesn't belong.

* * *

**It's been great, and through writing these and reading other fanfics, I've established a love for the epilogue that wasn't there before. I read somewhere that James apparently has _black_ hair, not red, but I don't think I'm going to change that in this fanfiction. Maybe in a future edit.**

**Hokee dokee. Just a restatement: I do not own Harry Potter, J K Rowling does, I'm just playing with her toys and probably destroying them to boot. But that's fanfiction for you.**

**Thanks for reading (adding to alerts, favourites, etc.), guys! ♥**

_-tactfully_**  
**


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